


The Death And Burial of Poor Cock Robin (2: Electric Boogaloo)

by Tht0neGal666



Series: The It, The Girl, The Shadow [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010)
Genre: Angry Tim Drake, BAMF Tim Drake, Creepy Tim Drake, Gen, Implied/Referenced Violence, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd is Red Hood, POV Jason Todd, Poetry, Protective Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown is Robin, Threats of Violence, Tim Drake is Not Robin, or like. old children rhymes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28833153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tht0neGal666/pseuds/Tht0neGal666
Summary: "Red Hood." He introduced, trying to keep his voice firm enough to intimidate but not enough to scare. It's a pretty thin line to walk, with kids, but it's worth it. Even with misfits like this."The Kite." Shadowspinner says with complete conviction, nodding, and Jason rolled his eyes. Coming from a kid, this came off less as a creepy monolouge and more as a weird nursery rhyme."Oh? 'S that so, kid?" He asked, buying a bit of time for him to plan. What was he supposed to do with a kid like this?"It must be." They affirmed, strangely wide blue eyes trailing from one of Jason's shoulders to the other. "You carry the coffin with you everywhere."--Or; In one universe, Jason beats Robin bloody, and its a private matter between family. In this one, Jason beats Robin bloody, and her shadows might just hunt him for sport.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Series: The It, The Girl, The Shadow [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1297841
Comments: 5
Kudos: 88





	The Death And Burial of Poor Cock Robin (2: Electric Boogaloo)

"Who killed Cock Robin?" a voice trilled from up above, startling in the silence of his safehouse. Jason shot at it without even looking, and all he got for his efforts was a strangely high-pitched giggle. "Was it you, sparrow, with your bow and arrow?"

The fuckers here just got crazier every year, and Jason didn't have the fucking _time._ He had plans- _big_ plans, plans that were on a tight schedule now that he'd beaten a bird bloody and left it's pretty corpse for kids to poke at.

She wasn't _actually_ dead, though. The punk had spunk, and spark, and spite in _spades,_ and she wasn't dead. He glared up at the rafters and cocked his gun again.

"Not a clue what you're talking about. Or who I'm talking to. Care for introductions?"

"Hm, not a sparrow then. Perhaps a fly?" It pondered. Jason gave another shot, and got a shift of the shadows for his trouble. "Tell me, with your little eye- did _you_ see him die?"

Jason's heart skipped a beat, and his vision flashed green-

 _"Him?"_ He all but snarled, heart rate picking up. The voice giggled again, a darker sound.

"Yes, _him._ Cock Robin was a boy. Don't you read?" It jeered. Jason's finger twitched on the trigger again, but couldn't find a target.

 _Deep breathes,_ he reminded himself firmly. _In, and out._

"Well, I'm new in town," Jason lied through his teeth, "Maybe there's something I'm missing here. I thought Robin was a chick?"

"Your blood is as new as your _name_ , little Gotham." It hissed. "Though you _are_ a bit green behind the ears. Or maybe just the eyes." Another hiss, this one sounding like an attempt at that earlier giggle gone wrong and, despite himself, Jason swallowed nervously. " _Robin_ was a boy, most people are pretty sure _,_ and Cock Robin was too. _Robin Redbreast_ is a Chick."

(Jason kind of hates that his first thought is _Dick would be pissed that he isn't Cock Robin, in whatever nonsense this goof is spitting.)_

"What's the difference between the three? They're all Robin." He snorted, playing at nonchalant. This asshole spoke like they knew _too much,_ and seemed like one to weasel under his skin, if they could. He couldn't give them an damn inch.

"What's the difference between eggshell, seafoam, and cobalt?" It mocked, with uncanny mimicary. "They're all blue."

"Who _are_ you?" Jason demanded more insistantly, counting exits and backing into a corner. His heart was speeding up, and Jason bit back an agitated noise.

"Not a sparrow- not _green_ enough, I see that now. Not a fly either, not truly....A fish? Blood in his own dish? Ha, no, the _earth_ was the fish. Can't be Dove or Beetle or Owl or Linnet or Thrush...." It muttered, trailing off until he couldn't quite understand it anymore. He was loosing his paitence, ready to yell again, when a pleased trill echoed out. "Oh, I've got it! Tell me, little Gotham, are you a Kite?"

 _What do you know?_ He doesn't ask- doesn't dare show his hand- but he itches to.

"Cut the bullshit, it a'int cute. Who the _hell_ are you?" Jason demanded, pulling a flashbang from his belt. If he threw it up, maybe he could s-

A shadow dropped from the rafters, standing a few measley feet in front of him, bended in a deep formal bow.

"Shadowspinner. And you?" They purred. Jason aimed his gun on reflex, eager to have a more solid target.

They didn't even _twitch,_ and they were _damn_ lucky he didn't kill them there and then.

But something was not... _right,_ with this picture, and it's pretty easy to spot once he looks. This person, Shadowspinner, whoever they are- they're a _kid._

Christ, they had to be younger then Robin (redbreast? What was _that_ about?).

"Red Hood." He introduced, trying to keep his voice firm enough to intimidate but not enough to _scare._ It's a pretty thin line to walk, with kids, but it's worth it. Even with misfits like this.

"The Kite." Shadowspinner says with complete conviction, nodding, and Jason rolled his eyes. Coming from a kid, this came off less as a creepy monolouge and more as a weird nursery rhyme.

"Oh? 'S that so, kid?" He asked, buying a bit of time for him to plan. What was he supposed to do with a kid like this?

"It must be." They affirmed, strangely wide blue eyes trailing from one of Jason's shoulders to the other. "You carry the coffin with you everywhere."

An awkward pause in the conversation, as Jason restrained his reaction. Lashing out at the kid wouldn't help anyone. Especially not with context, and there's no _way_ the kid could _possibly_ know his story, could know exactly why that claim would mean to him. It was a generally creepy thing, the kid was probably just saying something freaky and vauge, and letting Jason work himself up. A smart stratagy, for a _kid._

"Mmh." He nodded, still at a loss for any way else to respond to _them._ Clearly, this Shadowspinner kid either had a few screws loose, or they were working for someone. Or both. "So, didja want something, kid?"

The kid's expression hardened, for a moment, but smoothed out just as fast. "Just your casting, in this truely _shakespherian_ production."

"In _english,_ kid. You're gonna give me a headache." Jason sighed, but his brain turned the words over anyway, and his eyes narrowed suspisously. 

Just how much _did_ this kid know?

"All the world's a stage," The kid mused, in a frankly _laughable_ english accent, "And all the bats and birds merely players."

"They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts." Jason continued absently, tapping his foot. What did it _mean?_ "Is that what this is to you? A play? Or..a game?" He prodded, looking the kid over again. They were dressed darkly, with blacks and greys, and they seemed to live up to their given name; shadows bent around them a little too perfectly, obscuring their figure and most of their face, but their eyes were distinctly blue-grey. Freezing and peircing, like daggers.

The kid cocked their head consideringly, a finger- gloved in gray- resting curiously on their lips. Jason thought to take advantage of their distraction, hand carefully casual on his belt, but th kid danced back into the dark immediately, and Jason had to focus to see them. A bit annoyed, he raised his hands in something like an apology or a surrender, and Shadowspinner relaxed but didn't move forward again.

"Gotham, she has....a sense of humor, and a short term memory, and some _very_ blatent favortism issues." The kid finally says, otherworldly undertone to their- his?- voice lost in thought, and Jason relaxed. So there _was_ an actual kid there, under all the cryptic bullshit. He was getting a little worried. "She isn't a creature of habit, but she likes her patterns, ya know? I think...if you squint a bit, find the right angle, it _is_ a game- but not in a childish or fun way. Like...surrvival horror, I guess." They shrugged, trailing off at the end and fiddling with their hands. Not nervous, but maybe skittish. 

Jason tried to soften his stance a little; something infinately easier when he was something closer to relaxed.

"I guess I can see that." He said agreeably, only half-lying this time. It _kinda_ made sense, at least, which was better then the majority of the conversation. "So...what's my role, then?"

The kid's stance snapped, back into that vaugely-ethereal gait, like stritching on a differnt skin. This time, Jason brushed aside his unease. 

"Kite, kite, coffin carrier..." They said in their previous trill, and, even fully expecting it, Jason shivered. The kid was _good,_ he'll give them that. "Oh, you're not a _Sparrow_ at all. You're a Bat-Hawk- Trying to hunt the hunter." A crooked smile cracked the corners of the kids lips. 

"And what's _yours?"_ He asked, maybe a little too fast. Maybe a _little_ effected the creepy expression. You'd think some combination of Batman, the LoA, and good ol' Gotham would desensitze him to being creeped out, especially after seeing _explicitly_ that it was an act, but....the kid was _offputting._ Nothing to be done about it.

"I'm the Shadow spinner!" They chirped, posing dramatically to present themself. The effect was ruined by the shadows still obscuring them, but they didn't seem to mind. 

"And what does that _mean?"_ Jason pressed, annoyance leaking into his words. This was an exhuasting conversation after an exhuasting week, and damnit his head _hurt._ "In english again, if you would."

Jason wasn't _asking._ The kid giggled. 

"It's like....a narrator, but nosier. I tried, but I can't quite fit in the poem- not this one. If you want a bird...A Magpie, perhaps. A hoarder of moments and holder of shadows." Another pose, somehow _more_ dramatic, and Jason realized embarrasingly late that the kid had manuvered themself _right in front of the window._ "I'm a _storyteller,_ Kite."

"Redhood." Jason corrected, shifting his stance and getting ready to lunge. This might me his only chance. "I'm the _Redhood."_

"Redhood _the Kite."_ the kid shrugged, grin wiggling into something more mischevious then malevolent. "One man, in his time, plays many parts."

Jason couldn't help it. This kid, this situation- it was _bizzare,_ even for Gotham, even for _him,_ and he couldn't help but laugh, hard enough to forget his concern for a moment, hard enough to buckle his knees and almost fall over in shock. He shook his head and sighed, and opened his eyes-

There was nothing but a distant giggle and gentle sway of curtains to greet him, and he found the nearest bed to collapse into.

Honestly, the second most well deserved rest of his life.

(Second, behind the obvious.)

**Author's Note:**

> god Tim is being so fucking extra here ohsdfu in his defense he is PISSED and also like 14. Not pictured; Cass in the rafters, ready to curb-stomp Jason if this escalates.


End file.
